


Early One Morning, Just as the Sun Was Shining

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Communication Failure, F/M, Flashbacks, Guilt, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 18:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11064783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: She loves him, or at least she thinks she does. She loves what parts of him she knows. It's not that she's insincere, no, she's the most honest woman he's ever met. It's that he is.He wants so much to be the man she loves, the King in the North, just and honourable and kind, the sort of man who'd break a pact he needed because he could not abandon a woman he'd defiled. But try as he might, there are parts of him she will never know, parts of him that she could never love, parts of him that are sick and dirty and wrong. Parts of him that were only ever good to two men: one who abandoned him, and one who betrayed him.





	Early One Morning, Just as the Sun Was Shining

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those things that was kind of inspired by a prompt, but wound up not really fitting it very well, so I won't include it here. Title comes from the folk song "Early One Morning," aka. that song that was in season 7 of Buffy, I regret nothing.
> 
> Also why do I write things with flashbacks when I hate having to format them so much?

****“ _We should get back.”_

_Jon is still loosely curled around Robb's side, fingers brushing through his red curls, but he's not looking at Robb, eyes tilted up above his head and due East. Robb groans at the thought and closes his eyes, and Theon chuckles._

“ _That might mean walking, Snow,” he points out, pressing soft kisses to the nape of Robb's neck and the arm around his belly in tighter. “Not sure our Lord Stark's up to that yet.”_

_Robb flushes, and squirms a little in Theon's embrace. “Piss off,” he says, and Theon laughs at him. Jon, being Jon, remains frowning._

“ _The sun's almost up.”_

 

“You're up early.”

Robb blinks out of his reverie and turns to see Jeyne, chestnut curls a mess on the pillow, looking at him with affection and vague concern. He smiles at her. “Couldn't sleep,” he says, and it doesn't look like it's alleviated her worry. He sleeps too little nowadays, and he knows it can't be good for his men to have their commander so unrested, as if that could somehow make things worse. Jeyne's offered to have her mother mix some sort of tea to help, and while he's grateful, he turned her down. He likes his goodmother well enough, but he's not sure he trusts her enough to feed him yet. Jeyne seems to understand.

It's barely past the crack of dawn, and still, Jeyne pulls herself up and out of bed to join him staring out the window. He flinches and looks away when he sees the red marks upon her hips and breasts. He keeps telling himself to be less rough with her, even though she says she doesn't mind, she's even said (very bashfully) she likes it some, but still, it does not feel like the way he should treat his lady wife. He can't imagine his father ever doing such a thing. But it's always been too easy to lose himself in the night, in the warmth of human flesh, only to feel a sickness of spirit when he wakes. Perhaps his smallfolk have a point with the wolf thing.

 

“ _Robb? Are you alright?”_

_Robb is still gasping for breath, arms and legs splayed out on Theon's thick furs, Jon's hesitant look, always so afraid to have overstepped his bounds, above him. He nods haphazardly, words not yet a capacity of his, but that doesn't sum it up. He feels incredible. It_ hurts _, a dull ache ringing out from the very core of him, but somehow the further it spreads the less it feels like pain, it transforms into something different, something tingling beneath his skin and threatening to break free. Robb barely feels like himself anymore. Jon doesn't look convinced, and then Theon speaks._

“ _'Course he's alright. Loved every second of it, didn't you?” Robb groans and nods his agreement, more firmly this time, his pride for a moment put aside. Theon's hand cups his chin and caresses his jaw. “Poor little lordling loves being used.”_

_He looks up into Jon's eyes and for a second, sees something dark there he doesn't recognise. Doesn't understand. Doesn't_ like. _But then Theon tilts his head up to look at him again. “C'mon, Robb. My turn.”_

 

Jeyne doesn't speak as she approaches him, for which he's grateful, instead she simply embraces him from behind, offering her warmth as he watches the first bursts of pink sunlight sparkle across the river. It's so _pretty_ at Riverrun, it's enough to make him wish he was an artist just to capture it, although he knows that is not what kings do in their spare time, if they ever get any – they're the ones who get painted. Riverrun is not Winterfell, it will never be Winterfell, but it's the closest thing he has to a home. All the family he has left is here.

And yet, for all his uncle Edmure's jibes about how this Southern heat must be melting the Northerners into the ground, Robb feels colder here than he ever did at Winterfell. Well, he supposes he was indoors most of the time, or not to far from the hot springs. He leans back against Jeyne, and she rises up on her tip-toes to tuck her head over his shoulder. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

He shakes his head. It would do no good to tell her, if she's stuck with him anyway. But she loves him, or she loves what she thinks he is, and he won't ruin that for her.

 

_She sneaks in at the dead of night to tell him, saying: “Your bannermen wanted to wait until you'd recovered, but... they all want you to talk about the succession, about battle plans, and I thought you should hear from someone who wouldn't make you...”_

_He barely understands what she's saying and part of him wants to scream at her, to call her a liar, but she's been so good to him, so kind and gentle and he trusts her, even though she is technically his hostage, and then he wants to scream, not at her but just to_ scream _, but he bursts into desperate, childish sobs instead._

_For hours she just holds him as he cries, she strokes his hair and wipes his tears and never once tells him it's going to be alright, and it's not until the dawn light is starting to sneak past the window that she starts to extract herself from his embrace, knowing she should get back to her rooms before she's caught. Then Robb grasps her by the wrist._

“ _Please,” he whispers, and he knows he has no right to ask this of her, she barely knows him, but he can't help himself, “please don't leave me.”_

_She looks at him, tears in her eyes, and purses her lips together. “Never,” she says. A woman of honour, she keeps her vow._

 

Jeyne doesn't question his answer, she just stays there, basking in the sunlight as best she can with his body in the way. Her fingers drift across the soft red fur on his lower belly, and his cock begins to stir automatically, heat spreading across his lower body. He's trained it well, taught it that he needs to take every chance he gets to make an heir, for even if he tells himself he feels a curve in Jeyne's belly as she wraps herself around him, he knows it's probably wishful thinking. Still, the sight of his own prick thickening with blood and seed makes him feel queasy. He wants her, really truly _wants her_ , from her golden eyes blackened with lust to her chestnut curls bouncing as he takes to his fingerprints all over her body, and she's his wife, he _should_ want her, but the thought fills him with dread.

 

“ _Relax, Snow,” Theon drawls out, and Robb thinks_ easy for you to say _, Jon in his lap and their foreheads pressed together and both their cocks hard as rocks in their breeches, but still not touching truly, not ready to cross that boundary, and Robb knows that if anyone saw them like this there would be no denying what's happening, but that's not the point. It's not about what anyone else knows. It's about what_ they _know. But Theon, of course, already knows. “I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm enjoying the show. He wants you to, surely you realise that?”_

_Jon twitches, tempted, always so tempted, but Theon's teasing isn't quite enough to break him. Robb realises this is hard for Jon, harder than it is for him, and he feels sick as soon as he starts to think about what he's doing, about his family, about the piercing red eye of his father's weirwoods and the golden light that shines through the Seven-Pointed Star in his mother's sept. But Jon, Jon has always tried so hard to be good, to prove all Theon's taunts and Septa Mordane's whispers and Mother's suspicious glares wrong, and this would be giving that up. Robb almost feels guilty for dragging Jon into this, even though he knows his brother wants it as much as he does. Still: can Robb possibly be worth it?_

“ _Jon,” he says, and he makes himself smile, because he knows what Jon needs now. Jon needs him to be certain, because he can't be that himself. Perhaps he needs it to be Robb's fault. “I do want it. I want it a lot.” He pauses. “I want_ you _Jon.”_

_It's far from the grandest declaration of love ever made, but it does the trick and he feels Jon's lips move bravely over his. Behind them, Theon chuckles merrily, but with affection. For a moment that dread disappears. Everything feels right._

 

He's not sure if he's relieved that Jeyne doesn't seem to notice. He might have worn her out. “When do you have to leave?”

Robb blinks, taking a second to remember what she's talking about. “A few days. Three,” he says. He knows he should leave as soon as possible, get Lord Walder's troops and then rush North, for the longer he waits the longer the Ironborn have his land, the longer they rape and pillage his people, the longer Theon– but he's afraid of what he'll find there. He's afraid of what he'll learn. He's afraid of what he'll have to live with.

Or what he won't. After all, no Southern army has ever made it past the neck. Who says he'll fare any better?

Jeyne sighs and pulls him closer. “I wish I could come with you.”

He knows it's not a request, but a statement. “You're safer here,” he tells her, and possibly he's being irrational, for if any of the Freys were brave enough to try and harm his lady wife they would probably have bigger problems, but he knows he couldn't bear it if something happened to her. He'd go mad. “My uncle will take care of you, he's a good man.”

“I know, but still: I'll be lonely,” she says. Robb sighs. He doesn't want to leave her, but he knows he can't take her with him. He must grow used to being alone.

 

“ _You can't be serious.”_

_Jon looks at him, pained, as he folds another fur into his trunk. “I have to, Robb,” he says, and Robb just wants to shout_ why? _“There's no place for me anymore, not with Father gone. Your mother–”_

“ _I'll talk to her, alright?” Robb blurts out, and he knows how pathetic he sounds, but he can't bring himself to care. “She'll come around, she has to, with Father gone I'll be Lord of Winterfell and she'll have to listen to me–”_

_Robb barely knows what he's saying, but he stops dead when he sees how Jon grimaces like he just sucked on a lemon. “I don't need your pity,” he mutters._

Pity? _Robb doesn't understand. “I want you here, Jon.”_

_For a long moment Jon just stares at him, seemingly on the edge of saying something, but never quite reaching it. Robb wishes Theon were here. He knows Theon is rubbish about talking things like this, he just brushed off the news with a smirk and a jape like the past year never happened, but somehow with all his bluster and bravado he's always managed to make them talk. Where_ is _he right now? After a long moment, Jon sighs. “I need to pack, Robb.”_

_Robb blinks, hurt and confused. So he leaves. What else can he do?_

 

“I'm sorry,” he tells her, and shrugs.

“I know it's not your fault.” But it is, everything that happens to her from now on is his fault; none of this would've happened if he hadn't come storming into her castle with his schemes and strategies, everything that seemed so damn clever at the time, everything he thought would win him the war. Even then, after he knew what Theon had done, he'd thought it might all be some misunderstanding, that Theon might have gotten word of what his father meant to do and gone to Winterfell to protect it, to _protect_ Bran and Rickon, and as soon as Robb rode back in he'd surrender without a fight. Robb is a fool, he knows that, a trusting fool.

 

_He has to talk Jon and Theon into laying together without him in between them, but when they do, he can tell they've been wanting it for months. He knew that all along, of course, and that they were both too proud to ask, but if someone else gave them the excuse... They're different with each other than they are with him though. They're rough, vicious, violent. They scratch and claw, and they spit and shout,_ bastard, cunt, whore, hostage. _Robb almost wants to intervene before they really do hurt each other, but he realises neither of them wants him to do that._

_Once they're done with each other and Robb spills into his palm and makes a mess of Jon's blankets watching, they all curl up together, using the excuse of such a narrow bed to hold each other tight. Jon's the first to drift off, and Robb watches him looking so calm, so peaceful, so innocent – although it's undercut by a long red scratch Theon left across his shoulder. He never looks like that after he fucks Robb. His face twitches through his sleep, curled in that frown of his, like he's afraid he's made a terrible mistake._

“ _I didn't know he had that in him,” Robb mutters, and Theon gives him a puzzled look. “He was... rough with you.”_

“ _I can look after myself, Stark,” Theon smirks._

“ _I know, I just – he's not like that with me.” It takes so much effort to ever talk Jon into being the one to fuck him, and even when he does, he's always so careful, always so slow, always so afraid of hurting Robb. He appreciates the concern, but still, watching him and Theon tonight... it's lit some sort of fire within him._

_Theon scoffs. “'Course not,” he says, taking Robb by surprise. “He reckons Lady Stark might only chop one of his balls off before kicking him out of house and home if she catches him with your cock up his arse. If she catches him fucking you though... he's not going to risk pushing the little heir too far. He's a smart boy.”_

_Robb frowns, staring at Jon sleeping peacefully. It's not like Jon's lied to him. And yet, Robb feels like he's been dishonest. He doesn't like the thought that Jon is holding back, that he won't treat Robb like he would anyone else because Robb is the lord and he is the bastard and he ought to know his place. This is all so_ wrong _anyway, so why does it matter who fucks who, or how hard they do it?_

“ _Do you want him to do that to you?”_

_A blush rises to Robb's cheeks._ Yes _, he thinks. But the thought feels wrong, even though he just said it didn't matter. He decides to avoid answering the question._

“ _Do you think he would?”_

_Theon thinks this over for a moment, and shrugs. “Never know until you ask.”_

 

“Have you broken your fast yet?”

He blinks at Jeyne's question. “Not yet.” In truth, he doubts any of the cooks are up yet, he doesn't want to bother them. It's just starting to get truly light outside.

“Well I'm hungry,” she says, and he smiles. That's a good sign. He knows he shouldn't read too much into things, but still, if she's hungrier than normal... “What would you like?”

He shrugs. “Some fruit and bread would do.” He knows it's not much, but still, she should be glad he is eating again. He knows he frightened her in those weeks after Lord Karstark, when he couldn't eat, but it's not like he did that on purpose. He just felt sick then, and no matter how he washed he could smell the blood, could hear the man cursing him for a kinslayer. Then in his dreams it wasn't those boys whose bodies they dragged out, but Bran and Rickon, and it wasn't Lord Karstark dragged out in chains, but himself. And it wasn't him who swung the sword, but his mother.

In other dreams it was her head he took for treason, and she nodded like she understood, like he knew that being a king meant he could not love her, or Sansa or Arya or Bran or Rickon or Jon or Theon or Jeyne or anybody. And then it was Theon, and those dreams were the worst, Theon who was a greater traitor than Karstark could ever be, Theon who was more his family than Karstark could ever be, Theon who he loved, Theon who he fucked–

He remembered Edd and Torrhen, two men he barely knew and who died for him regardless. He remembered all his battles and all the Lannister knights he'd defeated, and their squires, boys no older than Bran, cut down beside them. He remembered Lord Rickard's daughter, Lady Alys, who he'd wanted to marry to Robb once. What a joke that was.

 

“ _Do you like her?” Jon asks, pouting while perched on the end of Robb's bed. “The Karstark girl?”_

_Robb frowns. “Yeah? I guess?” She more confused him than anything. He didn't understand why she kept talking to him, and why everyone seemed to want her to keep talking to him, but she was nice enough. He's not sure what answer Jon wants to hear._

_Jon nods, but he pouts even more. “They want you to marry her, you know.”_

_Robb blinks. “Oh.” That does explain a lot, and he's almost cross Jon noticed that when he didn't. He's nine years old, he's not a child, but Jon does have this way of making him feel young and stupid, although he's sure Jon didn't mean to. He did once tell Robb that being a bastard made him grow up quicker, and that doesn't make any sense, but Jon looked so hurt when Robb tried to tell him that. Maybe it's true. Robb stares at Jon looking miserable on his bed, and tries, for once, to_ notice _. “Do you not like her Jon?”_

_Jon blushes. “No, it's not that, I–”_

“ _Because if you don't like her I won't marry her,” says Robb quickly, scurrying over to sit by Robb's side. “They can't make me.” He sounds a lot more sure of that than he is. He's not sure who 'they' is, either. “I wouldn't do that to you.”_

_Jon smiles at him then, really truly smiles. But Robb is a little annoyed that he doesn't say a word._

 

He's not sure he'll be able to eat now, but he should try, for Jeyne's sake. He should spend as much time with her as he can before he leaves. He will miss her.

“If we're going to eat, I might have to let go of you,” she says, and only wraps her arms around him tighter. He laughs.

“You never know. If we shout loud enough, the servants might hear us.”

“They might, but I doubt it will endear me to your bannermen.”

Sometimes it's easy with her, sometimes he loves her so much he forgets she's not his first love. Sometimes he can forget Theon, and he can forget Jon–

 

“ _Please, you can't go.”_

_Jon looked pained, but not in a way that says he might change his mind. Robb's always known how stubborn Jon can be, and now is the worst time to have that reinforced. “Nothing's changed, Robb,” he says._

“ _Everything's changed!”_

“ _Your mother–”_

“ _Would barely even notice you're here right now!” Robb bursts out, and he can feel tears welling already, and gods he feels pathetic but surely Jon has to understand? Beneath it all, their sickly, sinful love, there is another love. They're_ brothers. _“She's – she's not well, Jon, and Bran, I don't know what to do when he wakes up, I don't know if he'll wake up, and Rickon, I don't know what to do with Rickon, and I'm scared Jon. You_ can't _go. I – I need you.”_

_Jon looks even more pained at that, and looks away. “You're scared. I know. But you'll get by.” Robb stares. How? How is he meant to get by? Why should he have to? “Robb... we can't go on like this. Don't you see I'm ruining you?”_

“ _...What?”_

“ _This is_ wrong _, Robb. Don't you realise that?” And Robb is inexplicably wounded. Yes, he knows it's wrong, but Jon's no innocent of it and that's no excuse for him to– “I know, I'm just the bastard, no-one would expect any better of me... but you'll be Lord of Winterfell one day, Robb. In truth, you'll be it tomorrow, when Father's gone. You'll have to be_ good _Robb, so much better than you can imagine. You can't do that with me around.”_

_Robb just stares, dumbstruck. “I – if you don't want to fuck me anymore, that's alright, but–_

“ _C'mon Robb, you know it's not that simple,” Jon tells him._ No, _Robb thinks._ If it were simple, I might understand a word of it. _“You want me, Robb. I know you want me. But you don't_ need _me, you need the opposite. You're the perfect heir, you're all Father could ever hope for, but I'm the one thing fucking you up. I need to get out of your way.”_

_Robb stares awhile longer as he struggles to comprehend. As it finally sinks in, however, fury blossoms in his chest. “Is that all I am to you?!” he asks. “The heir to Winterfell. Is that all you're worried about, what this might make people think of me?”_

“ _Robb–”_

_He laughs hysterically, cruelly. “I get it now, Snow,” he says, even though he's never felt less like he gets it in his life. “Is that the only reason you wanted me? Did you think you'd finally belong if you let me make you my whore?” Jon flinches at that, and Robb realises it was an awful thing to say, but he can't seem to stop himself._ Why don't you care? _he wants to ask._ I'm scared, I'm lonely, I'm in pain. Why doesn't that matter more than who I'm meant to be? _“Well alright then. Go pursue your noble calling, and do the same with mine. I still have Theon. I'll be alright.”_

“ _Good,” says Jon. “I hope you're happy.”_

But how am I meant to be?

_Robb storms out._

 

–And she loves him, or at least she thinks she does. She loves what parts of him she knows. It's not that she's insincere, no, she's the most honest woman he's ever met. It's that he is.

He wants so much to be the man she loves, the King in the North, just and honourable and kind, the sort of man who'd break a pact he needed because he could not abandon a woman he'd defiled. But try as he might, there are parts of him she will never know, parts of him that she could never love, parts of him that are sick and dirty and wrong. Parts of him that were only ever good to two men: one who abandoned him, and one who betrayed him.

 

_He goes to Theon for comfort, of course he does. Who else is there? “Fuck Snow,” says Theon, slurping from a wineskin and lying down next to Robb on the bed. “If he wants to go get his cock frozen off on the wall, that's his business. I might not have his cocksucking mouth, but I promise I'll make do in a pinch.”_

_Robb_ knows _this is what Theon does, that this is how he deals with things, that he's not as carefree as he always tries to seem. And yet, it still gets under his skin. “Don't you care? Jon just left us, doesn't that bother you?” He always wanted Jon and Theon to love each other, as much as they loved him, but he never was sure they did. “Or are you glad, you finally have me all to yourself, all lonely and vulnerable to boot? Do you not care how this makes me feel if you don't have to share anymore?”_

_He doesn't mean it, not really, he doesn't even know why he says it. Does he want Theon to crumble, to admit that yes, he's as miserable as Robb is, just so he doesn't have to feel so alone anymore? What sort of hypocrite would that make him? Theon doesn't do that though, he just pauses a moment, and scoffs. “Don't flatter yourself, Stark. I could have any woman in Winterfell if I chose. I just happen to think you two whining about your honour and turning into such depraved little sluts when no-one's watching is funny, that's all. I was trying to cheer you up, but if you're going to be a little bitch about it, I won't waste my time. I don't need you any more than I need him.”_

_Robb falters. “Theon–”_

_But it's too late, he's already gone, and Robb has never felt more alone._

 

Jeyne finally lets go, and he finally turns around to look at her. She is so beautiful, and he knows he doesn't deserve her. He knows he ought to be punished, no matter how much he has been. He fucked his brother and he lost his brothers, at the hands of the man he fucked with his brother. Gods, isn't that so fitting?

He doesn't want to leave his wife, but he has to. He has to keep her safe. And he has to go meet the Freys. He needs their troops, yes, he needs them to reclaim his lands and rebuild his castle and execute the traitor like any good king would. But more than that... he needs them to hate him. Because he was meant to marry one of their women, and he married a woman he wanted. Because he was meant to do something, and he didn't. And in the end, it always comes back to what he's meant to do.

 

_Theon takes him to bed the night before he leaves for Pyke, and Robb is confused, it's been awhile since they've done that, but it doesn't take long for him to give in. He knows he shouldn't, not when it's so much more dangerous now, his bannermen all around him and the Lannisters looking for any excuse to take him down. They must have a dozen spies in this castle. But Robb has_ missed _this, has missed feeling more like flesh than steel and iron. It's so easy for him to give in._ Jon was right, _he realises, and feels a burst of shame when he remembers how he reacted when Jon told him the truth._

_Theon acts oddly that night, laying beneath Robb quiet, yielding, and pliant. Submissive. Robb doesn't understand it, but if that's what Theon wants, he'll play the part. He fucks him deep and hard and makes him claw at Robb's back, makes him leave bruises and scratches. Robb hopes those stay. He'd like to remember he can still draw blood without someone trying to kill him._

_Near the end, Theon suddenly grabs him by the hands and stares him dead in the eye. “Ask me not to go,” he says._

_Robb blinks._ But it was your idea. _When Theon came to him offering to make an alliance with his father, Robb almost wanted to scream at him, to ask him how he dared to leave just like Jon? But he was so immature when Jon left, and it still haunted him, he didn't want to do the same thing again. The suggestion Theon made was a good one, one that could help Robb do everything he needed to, and it wasn't like he thought he could keep Theon by his side forever anyway. Theon fought by his side in every battle, and what if he got himself killed? He'd be safer on a diplomatic mission to his own father. Whatever Balon Greyjoy might be, he wasn't a kinslayer._

_He doesn't answer the question, simply buries himself and spills inside Theon, as if he can mark him. Once they're both done, Robb sighs. “I need you to go, Theon.”_

_A pause, and then Theon laughs. “Yeah, I know. Sorry Your Grace, don't know what came over me.”_

_He falls asleep then, and Robb, feeling cold, curls up against him. But it all feels wrong without Jon in the bed._

 

“Hey, I didn't ask,” Robb says, “what do you want for breakfast?”

Jeyne thinks this over a moment, then smiles sadly. “You not to leave?”

 

“ _The sun is not almost up,” Robb insists, even though it clearly is. He can already see the sun poking through the trees. “We have another half-hour before it's light, don't worry.”_

“ _Still: if we stay here any longer, we'll get caught.” Jon sighs. “We shouldn't have let ourselves fall asleep here.”_

“ _Whose dumb idea was it to fuck in a forest anyway?” Theon asks, and Jon and Robb both turn and stare at him._

“ _Yours,” they say, simultaneously._

_Theon shrugs at that, as if to say_ fair enough _, and then they all start pushing themselves up and brushing the dirt off themselves. Jon and Theon manage it without too much trouble, Jon blushing as he laces his breeches and Theon not, but Robb has a bit more trouble. “Ah!” he gasps as he tries to stand, but a sharp pain in his arse prevents him. Theon grins savagely, and even Jon can't quite repress a smirk. “Something the matter, Lord Stark?”_

_Robb growls at him. “Fuck off, Greyjoy, you know very well you–” he hisses as the ache starts to spread throughout his body. “Urgh. I think I really can't walk now.”_

_Jon snickers, and Theon shrugs. “Well if they find you here, your parents will cover it up to bury the scandal. See you, Robb.”_

_Robb knows he's just kidding, but still, he gasps in indignation as Theon starts to walk away. Jon laughs at this, and after a moment's hesitation, starts to follow. Robb pouts at them._

“ _You're just going to leave me?”_

 

Robb laughs at that, and pulls her close. _Never_ , he wants to tell her. But he can't.

 


End file.
